What it is
by Nona Mousy
Summary: Before and after Fast & Furious. Character POVs.


**What it is**

**Summary:** Before and after Fast & Furious. It is what it is.

**Warnings:** Spoilers for the fourth movie (duh). Maybe some Brian/Dom if you feel like taking it that way.

* * *

**1. Letty**

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* * *

**

It was coincidence... fate maybe, the first time she spotted him.

Wrong side of town to pick up parts for the Charger and she'd stepped out of the shop and he'd just been sitting there across the street at some yuppie cafe. Nice suit and drinking a goddamn latte like he had every right to be walking around free and clear after what he'd done.

For about ten seconds all she'd wanted to do was storm across the road and deck him. For a full minute after that she really seriously considered doing it. But somehow reason, or maybe it was exhaustion, won out and she just dropped her packages into the Plymouth and slumped into the seat after them. Watching him.

A lot of possibilities ran through her mind.

Running him over when he left the cafe was an appealing fantasy but as pissed off as she was, as much as she considered herself capable of, Letty had never killed a man and was pretty sure she wanted to keep it that way.

Probably.

Brian Earl Spilner – Brian fucking O'Connor according to Dom, according to Mia.

Letty'd made a point of not thinking too much about the man in the past years, made a point of not thinking too much about anything to do with LA until recently actually. It hadn't been that hard to pretend it never happened. Easier still when Vince got out, when Leon left to go stay with him, when suddenly it was just her and Dom and the whole world spread out in front of them.

Plenty of other things to think about, plenty of distractions and plenty of Dom. She kept him moving, kept him busy and he kept her happy, kept her with him. Dom and Letty. Letty and Dom. A regular Bonnie and Clyde.

Expect it seemed he hadn't seen it that way anymore. Maybe he hadn't seen it that way ever.

Somedays... bad days, she wondered if he'd been just humoring her for all along.

But here she was, back in LA because it was still home... or as close to home as there was without Dom, and being back in LA meant thinking about what had happened in LA.

She'd stayed with Mia a few weeks when she'd first gotten back, before she'd found a place outside of town to lay low. The arrest warrant on her had expired or been canceled sometime in the interim, and Mia'd assured her that the cops had nothing on anyone but Dom. She was still on the radar though, probably wanted for questioning and Letty wasn't interested in answering a fucking thing.

Dom would probably kill her if she got hauled off for running down a cop after basically getting a pass. Even if it was O'Connor. Even if he goddamn deserved it.

The asshole in question stood eventually, dumped whatever remained of his overpriced coffee and walked over to an ugly fucking ford that was such a tragically obvious unmarked cruiser she had to snort. Hell of a downgrade from that supra they'd built him.

She watched him drive off, shaking a little with controlled rage.

Eventually the Crown Vic turned a corner and was out of sight and Letty managed to release the breathe she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

* * *

The street scene wasn't anything like it used to be.

The crowd Dom and the team had run with was mostly gone, moved on to other things, other cities... other countries for some. There were a few people that remembered her still, offered her a beer and company when she showed up which wasn't all that often.

The races had kept up with the fads – drag strips were just one part, drifting was in and the big races were fucking insane cross country or cross town jaunts that lasted for miles and involved a lot more crashing into shit. This new crowd... full of dumbass kids with more money than brains seemed to really excel at totaling nice cars.

She wished they still had the garage – one or two of these brats probably could have kept them afloat all on their lonesomes.

Letty almost missed him in the crowd the second time she saw him. He looked more like she remembered – all pretty boy charm and beach bum clothes. That damn shit eating grin as he wandered around the block party, admiring rides and flirting with underage cunts.

The urge to punch him roared up again, but it was easier to stamp down this time. Instead she watched him, tried to figure out who his mark was. It might be too late for her family but she wasn't about to let him fuck over anyone else. These kids might not be anything like her old crew, but being stupid didn't mean they deserved whatever damnation he was bringing down on them.

She trailed discretely after him, worked to overhear the conversations he entered and left behind.

"... too big for me." One kid was telling him, leaning a scrawny ass on a tricked out civic. "I was at one of the parties once though – man that guy's got serious cash to throw around."

"You watch the race?" Brian prompted him and the boy shrugged.

"They put the GPS info up on a board but the route wasn't out ahead of time you know? Kinda sucked actually – after the first turn there wasn't anything to see." The boy shrugged. "Good party though. Lots of hot girls."

"Yeah, sounds like." Brian agreed. "I'll catch you around, man."

The narc excused himself and Letty slid over to the kid. The boy eyed her appreciatively and she stamped down on the desire to slap him.

"What'd he ask you about?" She demanded.

"That old guy? Who cares about him?" The kid pushed off his car, trying to look tough and failing. Letty rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure that Brian was at most two or three years older than her and she was not flattered at the insult by proxy.

Fucking kids.

"I care. What did he ask you about?" She pressed. The kid pulled a face and crossed his arms.

"Wanted to know about getting into one of Campos' races." The kid shrugged. "Dude's an idiot. Those are invitation only."

"You shouldn't talk to him again." She told the boy, turning her attention back to the crowd, trying to spot where Brian had wandered off to.

"He seemed alright – bought me a beer."

Letty stared at the boy with distaste. Fucking idiot kids.

"Yeah I bet he did. Always did like the underage ones." She smirked at him as the brat blanched, looking suitably horrified.

She caught sight of sandy hair and a ratty blue polo at the far side of the parking lot and made a beeline for the Plymouth. A few people called to her as she passed but she just smiled and waved them off, ducking to the driver's seat and cranking the engine to life. It wasn't hard to follow Brian, not the least because he seemed to be _on foot_.

And if that wasn't proof he was a fucking ass she didn't know what was.

She screeched to a halt beside him two blocks from the party. He looked startled, and she felt a grim satisfaction at that.

"Get in." She ordered.

He blinked a few times, as if not really processing what he was seeing and she wondered if he had the gall not to recognize her. If he didn't admit to knowing her, she swore she was going to fucking run him over and to hell with the consequences.

A look she couldn't read fell over his features and he stepped up to the passenger door and got in. She peeled out again before he had a chance to get the door closed, much less buckled in.

"You fucking over someone else's life now?" She demanded, and was pleased to see him flinch out of the corner of her eye.

"Yeah." He agreed. "Yeah, I'm doing that."

She slammed on the brakes, throwing him hard against the racing harness as they screeched to a stop at a light.

"I warned that kid off." She told him. "You leave him alone."

Brain let out a sound that was sort of like a laugh, but harsher, strained, and she turned and looked at him. Up close the years showed more. Stress lines around his eyes and mouth, what looked like a permanent crease between his eyebrows. There were circles under his eyes that showed up clearly in the glaring street light, and a five-o-clock shadow didn't completely hide a gauntness in his cheeks that she didn't remember.

For a second Letty just stared, trying to resolve the man in her car with the bubbly blond puppy that had all but followed Dom around their garage for almost two months.

"You look like shit." She told him at last, pulling forward less aggressively as the light changed.

"Thanks, I feel like shit." He told her, hands fingering the seat, the dash... wanting to ask about the car maybe, but not daring to.

"Where to?" She prompted, surprising herself as much as him. He stared at her just a moment and it occurred to her that he might not want to tell her where he was living. Smarter probably if he didn't.

"About twenty blocks north." He gave her directions to a part of town she didn't frequent much. Low rent, high crime. Not what she would have expected.

They didn't say anything else while she drove.

The apartment had a gated parking garage at least, and he directed her to a spot next to a familiar ugly ass crown vic. And this was really where he lived if that was parked here.

She got out and followed him, even though he didn't invite her in.

Third floor, second door on the left of the stairs. He opened the door and let her in ahead of him switching on a front light.

The apartment was small, messy – papers waring with empty beer bottles and fast food wrappers for domination of the coffee table and a desk that was wedged against the far wall. A few folders had names, profiles of marks maybe? She leaned down and flipped one open. Brian didn't stop her.

Asian kid, didn't look or sound familiar. About a half dozen others, names and faces she didn't know.

"Friends of yours?" She wondered sarcastically.

"Maybe when I kick it." He returned, tossing his keys on the front table and ducking into the cramped cube that passed for a kitchen. "Corona?"

Letty closed the folder she had open, pushed the rest away.

"You get them killed too?" She asked with less venom than she'd intended.

"Sure." He agreed, holding out a beer. She took it and threw back half the bottle before looking at him. The anger was still there, bubbling under the surface, but it was tempered now with frustration, disappointment. "You can take a shot if it will help." He offered.

She put the Corona down, walked up and took his away as well, put it on the edge of the desk.

No sense wasting good beer.

He stumbled back under the force of her blow, tripping to land on his ass on the cracked linoleum. She thought about taking a second shot, but he didn't even try to get up, didn't try to curl in and protect himself. Just rubbed at his cheek silently and stared up at her.

It was incredibly unsatisfying.

She turned back to her Corona, toying with the label as she surveyed the room.

"What are you looking for anyway?" She wanted to know. "What did these kids die for?"

She could hear water running in the kitchen for a moment before he answered.

"Drugs." He said at last, a dishrag held to his face. It was swelling and she could already tell he'd have a nice shiner in the morning. That made her feel a little better. Not much, but some. "Guy's name's Braga. He's running it across the border using street racers as mules. We don't know much more than that. His second is a guy named Ramon Campos – he's been recruiting with races."

"Invitation only." She mused, recalling the kid at the party.

"You've heard of him?" He sounded half surprised, half something else. Tired... worried maybe.

"No. I asked the baby with the civic what you wanted."

"Hmm." He leaned back and closed his eyes, she stared at him, glanced at the TV. There was a gun on top of the old box, easy reach.

Brian had to know where he'd left that – either he trusted her a lot more than he should have, or he just didn't care. She wondered aloud which it was.

He cracked his good eye and just stared at her and it was pretty obvious what the answer was.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he was this fucked up. It made it too hard. Too hard to want to trash his life the way he'd ruined hers. It wasn't fair that she could pick up his own damn gun and shoot him and he wouldn't raise a hand to stop her. She wanted to crush the man, destroy everything he loved and steal his future, make him hurt like she hurt.

Hard to do when he was already down there, already fucked. She felt deflated, tired.

She missed the old days. Missed crazy fast quarter miles in the desert and the smell of grease and petrol and burning rubber. She missed Vince and Leon and Jesse. Missed barbeque's in the back of the house and Mia yelling at them to shut the hell up at 2am because she had a test in the morning.

She missed Dom.

Letty thought she felt about as beaten down as Brian looked. She wondered as she tossed back the rest of the Corona what he'd lost that had fucked him down to her level.

"I'll let myself out." She told him.

He nodded tiredly, and closed his eyes again.

His keys glittered on the small table next to the door as she opened it – the hall light glaring in brightly for a moment.

She stared at the collection. Two door keyes. One smaller, a mailbox or storage maybe. The remote and a key for the crown vic. On top another car key. This one broken, sheared off about two thirds down its length. Red paint – overspray in a distinctive line on the top bringing out the dodge logo.

For a long time she just stared at the key, thought about saying something, demanding it back. Then she left. Closed the door behind her. Listened to the lock click into place.

She'd always wondered who had finally let the Charger out of impound.

* * *

It took less work than she'd expected to find out about Campos. Almost none really – a couple of races, ten grand in winnings and the answer came to her.

The kid was Asian, Korean she thought. Complimented her driving, Bullshit flattery and a bad attempt to hit on her. She nailed him in the groin. Not as hard as she wanted to, but enough. He backed off the leering, but still gave her the time and date.

She broke into Brian's apartment the next day.

Wasn't hard at all. She remembered the key code to the garage and there was no security alarm inside. Not really anything worth stealing either.

She poked around the apartment leisurely while she waited for him to get home. Besides the cramped living room and hopeless kitchen there was only a cramped bedroom and small bath. Not even a full one really – standing shower and only about enough room to turn around otherwise. Medicine cabinet stocked with an empty oxycodone prescription that she wondered about. It was five months expired.

Bedroom was as spare as the living room. Mattress shoved into one corner, a couple of posters on the wall – some small track shit in Florida, a drift expo in Texas. Cheap laptop with a couple of missing function keys on a folding table. She tried turning it on, but it wanted a password and after a couple of halfhearted guesses she moved on. Computers had never really been her thing.

There were old car magazines stacked in precarious towers on either side of the television. A Nissan shift knob was being used as a paperweight on what passed for the entertainment center, holding down a channel listing and some takeout menus.

A photo, only one she'd seen anywhere in the apartment, leaning on the wall beside the cable box. Brian and some big black guy... nice looking, built. Grinning at the camera and leaning against a trashed Mitsubishi. Brian looked more like himself... or the himself he'd pretended to be at least, in that picture. Still some strain though, still like the smile wasn't quite in his eyes.

There was a playstation stuffed between some DVDs and a cheap stereo. She dug around a bit until she found the accompanying games – GT4 and a couple of arcade racers she wasn't familiar with. She popped the former in and settled in to wait for company, ran through a few tracks at random.

He didn't get in until after nine, but if he was surprised to find her there he didn't act it. Smart enough to recognize her car if nothing else.

"You eaten?" He asked, by way of greeting.

"No." Not that she hadn't tried. Brian's fridge was filled with beer, condiments and some old takeout boxes that hadn't looked very recently acquired.

"I wasn't expecting company." He told her, but offered up a burrito from an unmarked bag before tearing into one himself. He had the tasteless food polished off almost before she'd gotten hers unwrapped. She wondered if he'd eaten anything else that day, considered feeling bad about stealing his dinner but didn't really.

"Those kids – what'd you offer them to help?" She asked, not interested in skirting the issue.

He stared at her, face unreadable.

"No." He told her finally, turning into the kitchen. She shut off the playstation. Waiting for him to wander back in.

"What did you offer them, _O'Conner_?" She demanded as he slumped onto the worn couch.

"They're dead, Letty. Every one of them. Dead. Not injured, not missing. Dead." He ran a hand up through his hair – shorter now, cut closer and more frequently, the sandy blonde a darker shade without the bleached tips.

It might have been kinda sweet, the wanting to protect her bit. Except it wasn't. It was stupid and he had no right. None at all.

"What did you offer them, Brian?" She asked again, staring him down. There was pain in his face, frustration and something else that was hard to place. Eventually he looked away, looked down. Good boy. Still a pushover. Still a fucking narc at heart.

"Clean slates, locked records. One or two were looking at parole instead of life." He sounded defeated, like he knew why she was there. Probably he did. It was a good deal, good offer. Too good for local she guessed.

"I've got an invite." She told him, even though he had to have known that already.

"Yeah," He said. "Yeah, of course you do."

"This is big, right?" She sat forward, grabbed the half empty Corona off the coffee table she'd been nursing the past hour. It was warm and flat.

"Big, yeah, Bureau." He agreed.

Letty stared at him hard. The suit was clean, pressed. Too nice for LAPD even if it didn't really fit him – hung on his frame a little.

"Moving up in the world, huh?" She wondered. He snorted as if that was funny, and maybe it was. The apartment was shit and it was pretty clear he was using it as a place to sleep more than a place to live. Maybe he had a place somewhere else. Something nicer. Something expensive. Federal pay was too good to be living in this shit hole.

"Only been at it a few months." He told her. As much a warning as anything. Even if she was willing he might not be able to get her the deal she wanted. Might not be willing to try.

"You owe me." She argued, though she was not completely sure he did. Much as she hated what he was, he'd still saved Vince's life, let Dom go. The way he looked at her told her it didn't matter – he felt he owed something still. She wondered if she should find that surprising or not.

"I can ask." He told her. "I can't promise they'll go for it, but I can ask."

She nodded, relaxed now that was understood, and slumped back in her seat to pick at the burrito.

"Surprised they don't just send you into this." She mused, glancing at the stacks of magazines, the shift knob, the photo.

"I'm on a short leash." He told her, and she wondered about that. It hadn't really occurred to her to think he might have gotten in any trouble after the whole mess. Even if he had it should have been gone by now. Sorted. Something else then. Probably.

"You jack a car or something?" She wondered, remembering his old bullshit story about juvie. All lies. All games.

"It was a nice car." He told her, a bit of that old grin lighting up his face. She stared at him hard. Thought he might be serious.

"You're out of your fucking mind, you know that?" She passed him the remaining half of her burrito and wasn't really surprised when he stuffed it into his face like a starving man.

She needed to leave she decided, watching him. Because he was still too much like that dumbass kid that Dom had adopted all those years ago. That they all had really. Well... maybe not Vince, but _Them_. The team.

She needed him not to be.

Lacking that, she needed to stay away from him.

"Race is on Saturday night." She told him, passed him a scrap with her cell number on it. "Let me know if I want to win it."

He stared at the note for a long moment, chewing slowly. Wanting not to take it maybe.

But he did. And she left.

* * *

There was no way the charger was going to be finished by Saturday. Probably a good thing, something to come back to when this was over. Something to look forward to.

Letty ran a hand down the freshly sanded quarter panel. It still looked like crap, but it was getting closer. Closer to running again. Closer to being a car instead of a pile of twisted metal and parts.

She'd never worked on the beast when Dom had been here, though she'd sat around sometimes in the garage with him, handed over tools, kept his beer within easy reach. Distracted him when he'd been at it too long and needed a break even if he didn't really want one.

Never any good at pacing himself, Dominic. Never any good at knowing when to quit.

The old hinges of the garage creaked when Mia entered. The younger Toretto had aged some, less maybe that she might have. Still damn pretty if too thin. Letty had told her before that she needed more meat, more substance, but the look worked for the girl even if it did make it fucking hysterical when she stood next to her brother. Like the genes had split halfway down the middle and Mia had got all the pretty and slight and Dom had gotten all the rough and stocky.

"Something going on?" Mia asked, lifting herself up onto one of the rickety stools in the corner. The girl was in jeans, tight and worn, an old t-shirt, Dom's maybe? Too big for her anyway. Barefoot, ankles knocking together as she fidgeted a bit.

"Not really." Letty leaned over to pick up a few scattered tools, put them back into their proper place.

"You've been here every night this week." Mia observed, sounded curious... worried maybe. Always a smart girl, always quick to pick up when something was wrong with one of them.

"Yeah, just..." She leaned back on the charger, hands running lightly over the frame. "I miss him." She admitted.

"Me too." Mia sounded small when she said it. Young. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it was hard. Hollow. Filled with all the people that weren't there anymore.

Letty jumped a little when her phone vibrated – skipping itself across the workbench. She leaned forward, picked it up. The number was local. Unfamiliar.

"Yeah?" She answered, turning away from Mia's questioning look, leaning against cool metal.

"They'll pull the warrants." Brian's voice told her on the other end of the line. He sounded tense, short and breathy. Angry maybe. "They won't wipe the slate – he'd have to agree to three years parole. I'm sorry. Its the best they'll give me."

Letty felt a muscle flex in her jaw. It wasn't great, but it was more than she'd really expected. More than maybe she had a right to hope for. Dom was in a lot of shit. More probably than she actually knew about.

"I'll take it." She told him. "How much do you want for it?"

"An ID – we need to know who this guy is, what he looks like, where he lives. You'll have to testify probably. A sample of the haul would be gravy." He told her, still sounding unhappy with the whole thing. "Letty... look I don't want you to do this. If it goes south..." He stopped... sighed. "Dom will fucking kill me."

And you'll let him, she thought, picking at some flaking paint on the door.

"So make sure its good." She told him. "I'll talk to you Sunday." She hung up before he could say anything else.

"What was that about?" Mia wanted to know.

"Just hunting down a part for the Charger." Letty assured her.

* * *

**2. Brian**

* * *

The apartment was too damn hot.

He'd fiddled with the thermostat but it was pointless really, the old compressor had been in bad shape when he'd moved in and it wasn't getting any better. He'd called the landlord once or twice but every time maintenance came out all they managed was to get it patched for a few weeks and then it was back to pumping out warm air. He'd thought about getting a window unit, but that seemed like it was just asking someone to break in and take the thing.

So he suffered, spent most of his days out and slept on top of the sheets.

He should probably look into moving, but there wasn't really time right then and even if there had been he wasn't sure where he would have gone. The idea of a townhouse out in the burbs just didn't sit right and he wasn't interested in living in any of the overpriced yuppie filled apartments closer in.

A garage would be nice. Hell a car would be nice. A real one, something to drive and not just move from point a to point b in. But the bureau didn't really trust him yet, was watching him for any slip ups and if he'd had a car... the temptation would have been too great. He wouldn't last a week without a dozen traffic violations and wouldn't that be a great end to this job.

He'd been up since five. Not that he'd really slept any that night, just tossed and turned. Dozed off to jerk awake every time the sound of a loud engine drifted up to his room.

He'd tried to watch television, but there was nothing on except cartoons and infomercials. Thought about plugging in a game or maybe a movie, but his collection was all car stuff and thinking about cars meant thinking about Letty and that sent him back into his spiral of stress and worry.

He probably wasn't really allowed to be as worried as he was, but that didn't stop his brain from tripping over all the possibilities. Even if she survived the entry race – because one of their operatives hadn't even made it that far – even if... then what? Then the pick up and... and who knew?

He'd only been in on the case for about eight weeks. Had sent three kids in, harder every time even if they had all been locked up – looking at serious time for serious shit. Not good kids, not kids with very long futures no matter how he wanted to see it. Still kids. Still blood on his hands.

No idea where things went wrong. Just bodies sometime after they left. Shot execution style. Found around town. Sometimes out of town. A few days after their last check-ins.

Brian stumbled into the kitchen, grabbed a beer, put it back, started the coffee machine instead. Hot or no he needed caffeine badly.

He wandered back to the couch, sprawled out on it and stared at the ceiling like the cracked plaster had all the answers. Maybe it did. He could see his future in the wobbling spin of his overhead fan. It looked like Dominic Toretto come to wring his sorry neck.

Not as new of an image as he might have liked really.

There was a sound at the door – jiggling knob and he tensed, reaching under the couch to where his gun was stashed.

Letty sniffed when she entered. She looked okay. Tired maybe, but about the same as she had the last time he'd seen her.

"You ok?" He asked, just to be sure. She gave him an appraising once over as she closed the door and entered the living room. He flushed at being caught sprawled in nothing but his boxers.

Damn the A/C.

"Fine." She told him, dropping a bag of bagels on the coffee table. His stomach rumbled at the prospect.

"I called." He told her and she rolled her eyes. He had called four times that morning. It had gone straight to voicemail and he'd eventually forced himself to put the phone away and stop playing with it.

"Yeah, I saw that. Very stalker of you." She wandered into his kitchen, rifling around until she found mugs and poured them coffee.

He dug around the couch, found yesterday's pants and shimmied into them. Considered going for a shirt but it was still something like ninety degrees in the room and it wasn't like Letty to care.

The clock on the cable box proclaimed it to be 10:49am. Too early and too late all at once. He tried to remember if he'd eaten the day before and when as he fished out a bagel. He thought about asking if she'd won, but he thought Letty might smack him if he did so he just took the offered mug and waited.

She picked a bagel and settled across from him on the couch, ignoring him for the most part while she ate.

It was hard to know what to say to her. He hadn't know Letty as well as Dom or Mia, not even as well as Jesse really. She had been all about Dom and he had never really been sure what she thought of him. Might have been she hadn't really thought about him at all, just deferred to Dominic's opinion of him.

She pulled out an electronic device, handed it to him. He frowned and turned it over a few times curiously. Some kind of GPS handheld.

"They gave me that. Supposed to bring up the coordinates of where to meet sometime this week." He frowned, knew that meant she'd won.

He hadn't really figured that she wouldn't, but he'd sort of hoped...

"Its not too late to back out of this." He told her, not really with any hope that she would. She just stared at him. All hard eyes and pissed off determination. "Had to offer."

"Not sure why you care that much." She told him, honestly he thought.

"You believe I do?" He wondered, surprised. He handed back the GPS. She gave him a look that was hard to decipher as she took it back.

"I believe you probably don't usually try and get willing racers to quit." She picked at the remains of her breakfast. "Can't figure though... is it about Mia still? Or you just don't want to die after all if Dom finds out?"

"Neither." Which was true, though he could tell she was skeptical. He tried to decide what he could tell her. What she would be willing to hear. "I know it was a long time ago. I know I've well and fully burned those bridges. But I thought of you as a friend once. Maybe that was one sided. Maybe that was me lying too well... tricked myself too." He ran a hand over his head nervously. His hair was damp with sweat and he wanted a shower suddenly. "I get that I can't take back what happened, but I didn't go into it wanting to hurt anyone. I don't want to hurt anyone now."

"But you did." She said. "And you will."

"Yeah." He agreed. Because she was right. He was good at that. It was all he was good at really.

"I'll call when I find out when the drop is." She told him, standing and brushing crumbs from her lap.

"Just... be careful, alright?" He pleaded. It sounded pathetic, but he didn't really care. "Get out if it looks like its going bad. Don't worry about the deal – I'll get as much as I can out of them no matter what you bring back."

"Yeah." She said, headed for the door.

"Letty!" He swallowed hard, she stopped, hand of the knob but didn't turn around. "Does it mean anything at all that I'm sorry? That I'd take it back if I could?"

She didn't look at him, but her hand tightened on the doorknob. For a minute he thought she might turn around and deck him again.

"I dunno." She said at last, releasing the choke hold on the knob. "Maybe." She turned, offer him a sidelong glance, a small smirk. "You bring Dom home, it'll mean more."

"Just make sure you're here for him to come home to." He ordered, tried to swallow and failed. Tried to take a steadying breathe but it was ruined by the hot air. Hell with getting the place broken into – he was going for a window unit first thing in the morning.

"I'll do that." She promised but it wasn't as confident as he wanted.

And then she was gone.

* * *

Letty was called in on Thursday morning. She'd been gone just over fifteen hours when he'd known something had gone bad. It was hard to say how, but after two hours of staring at his cell and willing it to ring, then not to ring the call had come.

Different than the usual. Letty was too tough to go down without a fight. Too good to let someone just take her out. She'd run, just like he'd told her. Run like hell, might have almost gotten away. Come closer to it than any of the others.

The Plymouth was a charred husk by the time they'd gotten to it but she hadn't stood a chance anyway. It was hard to say if the gunshot wound to the head meant that she had suffered any less or not.

He ignored the looks from his fellow officers, Stasiak smirked at him and if he hadn't felt so numb at the time Brian was pretty sure he would have given into the urge to punch the guy.

"_Got the call"_ She'd told him, not even a day ago. _"Heading there now. I'll call you when I'm back."_

He'd wanted to say, 'don't do it' or at least 'be careful' but he'd been in the office, Agent Penning staring him down like he knew what Brian was thinking and he'd just agreed. Told her they'd be waiting, hung up.

Not the kind of last words he wanted to have spoken to her.

The agency was looking for Dom now. It seemed stupid with the mess they were in spiraling around them, but the feds were nothing if not opportunistic. Letty'd asked for his freedom in exchange for her help and men like Stasiak figured that if nothing else her death was worth catching Dominic Torreto because surely the guy would show.

For her funeral. For revenge. For something.

Brian thought about trying to warn someone. Mia maybe, if she would even listen to him. But she was smart and so was Dom. If he did come... _when_ he came he'd stay under the radar.

And anyway, they were watching him now. Waiting to see how he reacted. What he did. Waiting to see that he was really a dirty cop after all.

He wasn't really sure that he'd thought it would be different. Back then... in the days and weeks after he'd let Dom go it had been hell. Men he'd thought were friends looking at him funny. Some of them seemed to hover... waiting, giving him the benefit of the doubt. Most turned on him. Petty shit mostly – missing paperwork and spilled coffee. Some kind of messed up hazing.

He'd stayed through most of the IA investigation. Long enough to see Vince got out of the hospital, long enough to make sure there was a good lawyer around. For him, for Mia, for Leon and Letty because except for Dom what they had was flimsy, circumstantial mostly. Could have been enough, if he'd talked. But he didn't. Not about any of them.

Made up bullshit that Tanner knew was bullshit. That had Bilkins screaming in his face and threatening to throw him in jail. Probably would have done so too, if Brian had stuck around to let him.

But he hadn't. One day he'd just gotten in his car and left. Had started in to the precinct, to more meetings, to more lies and threats and Bilkins all but spitting in his face... had ended up on the interstate. Hadn't even really known what he planned to do until he was suddenly leaving California, aimed mostly east. Hadn't been that hard, things had blown over some, not as many guys watching him. Maybe they'd figured that he'd stayed around this long... he was just going to sit around and finish taking it.

He hadn't stopped moving for over a year. Pause a few days, a few weeks. Raced when he could – because at speed there was no time to think, just react. Get up, move on, do it again.

He missed the GT-R. Found her in a shoddy lot outside of Dallas, forked over 30k in cash, nearly all he'd had at the time, and she'd been his whole world suddenly.

Kept driving. Kept moving.

If Bilkins hadn't caught up to him in Miami he might still be driving. Stayed too long in Florida, should have known better.

He wanted to call Rome. Wanted to talk to someone, anyone, that would get it, but there was no way... not with guys like Penning and Stasiak watching. Not when this was all unfinished.

Somewhere at the end of this whole fucking mess was an answer. Something he'd been waiting to find out, some final revelation that would just make sense of his life. Some answer to a question he hadn't quite formed yet.

He'd stay till it was done. Stay and put up with Stasiak's underhanded jabs and Penning's watchful menace. Stay because some part of him that hadn't died out yet remembered why he'd wanted to be a cop in the first place. Remembered wanting to make a difference.

Serve and protect. Keep people safe.

Not the best track record, but he was still trying.

* * *

**3. Mia**

**

* * *

**

"I brought wine." Brian told her with a grin, looking as boyish and stupid for a moment as he had that first day she'd met him when he'd come into the market and ordered a tuna sandwich. He had a brown grocery sack tucked against his good side – still in direct violation of doctor's orders about not using his left arm.

"Thanks." She took the bag before he could strain himself further and motioned him into the house ahead of her. He wasn't limping as much any more, some color back in his face since she'd met him at the hospital. "You look better."

"Feel better." He grinned again, dropping into one of the chairs at the kitchen table gingerly. Mia rolled her eyes. Better was a long way from good really. The bruises on his face had matured – bright purple and green marks where he'd smashed his head on the rollcage of the impreza.

Concussion, though not a bad one. Three broken ribs, most of the rest of them bruised. A fractured left wrist and fifteen stitches in the gouge on the same shoulder. The mess on his abdomen had been worse – a big ugly puncture they'd had to leave open for days to flush out infection, he'd been lucky the shrapnel hadn't nicked any organs, any major blood vessels. It would still leave a bad scar, jagged and messy.

"They called to give me Dom's trial date." She told him, turning back to the stove. Pasta boiled gently, alongside a pan of fresh sauce. She glanced back at Brian's reflection in the microwave. The grin was gone as quickly as it had come and he looked worried now, frustrated.

"I heard." His voice was rough, low and unhappy. Whatever the feds had promised him two weeks ago, it wasn't standing up. It didn't seem to be helping either his mood or the situation that he was on suspension over the whole thing. Even bringing in Braga hadn't really smoothed things over completely. He'd told her they would reinstate him. That they'd have to. She hadn't decided yet if he actually wanted that or not though.

"Whatever happened to fair and timely?" She wanted to know. Frustrated and not quite above taking it out on him. "Six months, Brian? How is that fair _or_ timely?"

"They want the whole thing with Braga to have died down." He sighed and she turned to look at him. He looked about as helpless as she felt. "So it doesn't affect the judge's decision."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" She wanted to know, but he only shrugged stiffly in response.

"Depends on the judge."

The kitchen timer dinged and Mia turned back to the pasta, focused for a few minutes on dinner, as if maybe a bit of routine would help calm her down. Behind her she could hear Brian rise, open cabinets, pull out tableware. Five years and he still remembered his way around her kitchen.

"Mia." A warm hand on her shoulder stopped her overly enthusiastic stirring of the sauce and she tensed for a second before forcing herself to relax again. "Its going to be OK. Whatever happens, its going to be OK."

God but she wanted to believe that. That somehow this would all work out for the better. But right then she didn't see how. Dom was locked up in County until the trial, Brian was in dismal shape no matter how he wanted to shrug it off and Letty... Letty was _dead._ There was just no OK at the end of this road.

She must have made a sound, because his arms were there, around her and he was shushing her, turning her around so she could muffle sobs against his good shoulder.

Part of her was still mad, years of festering resentment between them, but he was there and warm and alive and steady and the need for that won out over anything else.

She cried herself out. Cried until the pasta was cold and the sauce burning. And he just stood there and held her like maybe if he just didn't let go it would all go away. Held her tightly enough that it had to be bad for him, had to hurt.

It helped, some.

She turned away when the smell of burnt tomatoes finally won out over the smell of him, sweat and heat and something earthy... tinted a bit with antiseptic from his bandages, but still strong. Still steady. She remembered that smell, had liked it back then when it had been buried a bit under grease and petrol.

"I think the sauce might be ruined." She told him.

"I'll call for a pizza." He consoled, and went to find the phone.

She dumped the saucepan in the sink to be dealt with later and leaned against the kitchen table, trying to rub the stuffiness from her face. She was still there when he came back and he came to stand in front of her, hands dropping to rest on her waist, soft blue eyes requesting permission before he leaned down to kiss her.

His mouth was soft and warm, coaxing her to open up to him. She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, holding on, running a hand through his hair. Shorter than it had been, still full and messy in spite of it.

It would be so easy to fall in love with him again.

Even easier to give in to mere physical comfort. Brain was a good lover. She'd never tell him to his face but she was of the strong opinion that he could drive a woman a lot better than he could drive a car. Even a few years and some new tricks behind the wheel hadn't changed that. He knew how to work her up, when to back off and when to push forward. Where to touch, where to kiss, where to _breathe_. Just thinking back made her toes curl a little, her stomach tighten in anticipation.

She put a hand between them. Just that, flat on his chest, a soft push, a small one and he drew back, stared down at her. Awaiting judgment.

She looked up at his eyes, baby blues. Pretty eyes.

Five years was a long time. She'd really loved him back then, or thought she had. Looking at him now, at what he'd done the past days she thought he had probably felt the same way. There was still chemistry but she'd had time to get over the rest, had time to grow up.

It might be in another lifetime they could have had something great, something lasting. But not this one. Not anymore. Not the way things were now or the way they might evolve. She'd moved on, wanted something more than he could give.

"I can't." She said, stared up at him, let him read the truth of it in her face. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." And he sounded like he was. Sorry, but not disappointed. She pulled his head down to hers, kissed his forehead, let him bury his face in her shoulder. A calm reversal of their earlier roles. He breathed her in, held her gently for a long moment before he let go and stepped back.

"Pizza should be here soon, wanna see if the wine's any good?" He offered with a grin, not as bright as before but easier somehow. Some small weight gone from his mind.

"Sounds like a plan." She agreed with an answering smile.

She watched him as he found the bottle opener, took it away from him before he could screw up his arm and shooed him off to get glasses.

Mia wanted to have a man look at her like she was his whole world. Wanted to know that he loved her more than he loved anything, more than anyone else. Selfish maybe, but she felt like she deserved it. Deserved to have someone that was just hers and not also Dom's.

And Brian had proved with his actions that he didn't. That he wasn't.

She wasn't even sure he realized it, but it was what it was and he was always going to belong to her brother first.

* * *

Mia shifted in her seat trying not to fidget while she waited. This felt all too familiar – the uncomfortable plastic chairs and the cheap black phones. The thick plastic window.

There was a buzzing sound as the security door was opened and a uniform escorted Dom into the room opposite her. He looked tired, worn down and older than she'd ever seen him. It hurt to see him like this.

It must have shown on her face because the first thing he asked when she picked up the phone was if she was OK. She had to smother a hysterical laugh at that because of the two of them she was definitely not the one to be worried about right then.

"I'm fine. God, Dom, I'm fine. You look like hell." It came out in a strangely panicked rush.

"I'm good. Don't worry so much." He told her, but he wasn't. Not really, and she did. "Tell me about things." He requested. "You still at that internship?"

"Yeah.. yeah, its going good." She told him, and it was. Not as exciting as she might have wanted, longer hours and all the less glamorous parts of being a doctor. A really obnoxious amount of paperwork. She tried to remember things about work that would make good stories – told him about the frat boy that had gotten an anchovy stuck up his nose, the woman that had lopped off the tip of her husband's finger with a cheese slicer. Dom laughed when appropriate, asked questions when she paused too long. Eventually though, she wound down, eyed the clock, eyed the guard. Tried to think of something to say that was more meaningful.

"Brian's working on the charger." She told him, not really sure if it was something she should mention or not.

"What?" He looked confused rather than angry though. Like he wasn't sure what she was talking about. Maybe he wasn't.

"He had it... what's left of it... had it towed back to the house. Its not..." She paused, trying to decide what to tell her brother. The car was a disaster. Brian wasn't fixing it as much as parting it out, digging through the twisted husk for anything that wasn't completely destroyed. There wasn't very much. Tail, lights, some of the rear suspension. The driver's seat was a loss, but the passenger one had been pulled out. Set aside. She'd wanted to tell him that it was a lost cause, but he went at the work with an intensity that rivaled Letty's and she didn't have the heart to stop him.

"Mia, that car is gone. It was totaled. The kind of totaled that doesn't get put back together again." Dom looked confused, but it was the most honest expression she'd seen on his face since she'd sat down so maybe it was OK.

"Yeah, he's been... I guess just pulling it apart for salvage mostly. There's not much left."

Brian had brought home a shell the day before, an intact frame with a complete front end. Started piecing it all together, was looking for an engine. It was almost like he believed if he could just bring that car back that it would bring Dom back with it. Like if he could make it whole again the rest of the world would fall in line after it.

"There's not anything left." Dom frowned, stared through her for a moment, trying to figure something out, but it was hard to say what.

"He just needs something to do, I think." She admitted, and that was half true anyway. Brian was running on some kind of manic energy these days. He was all but living at the house, there every night when she got home and every morning before she left. She needed to get him to bring over clothes, stuff him in the guest room instead of letting him drive to his apartment at night.

"He's taking care of you though, right?" Dom sounded worried now.

"Yeah, yeah he's taking care of me." She assured him. And he was, maybe not the way Dom thought, but the ways that mattered. Always on hand when she needed company, a good ear, a good shoulder. They'd spent a lot of nights just catching up, talking about nothing in particular over dishes at night or sitting together in the living room while she read up on patient files and he worked on backlogs of paperwork.

"Good. Just... good." Dom was still frowning a little, but he looked less worried now, more unsure. "He hasn't come by. I haven't been able to give him a talk about it."

Mia didn't bother to stifle a laugh at that one. Thought about telling her brother that it wasn't necessary, but Dom would have his say even if Brian was just a friend so she let it slide.

"I think he's not really sure of his welcome." She told him, watching Dom closely for a reaction.

"Yeah..." He rubbed a hand across his face. "Yeah... well that's two of us." He admitted honestly.

"I'll pass that on." Mia told him, and Dom nodded, looking a little bit lost again. She felt for him, could understand exactly where he was coming from, but he hoped that wherever this ended up that they could finally all move past it.

Dom had taken Brian in, adopted him into their strange little family and it had hurt her brother in a bad way when that had been betrayed. She could still picture the look on his face that day at the side of the road, with Vince bleeding out all around them. Like the sky was falling, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or scream. All the intervening years hadn't healed that.

Mia had made a kind of peace with her life. With Brian.

She hoped that maybe Dom could to. Because it wasn't ever going to be over until he did.

The guard hovered, shifted in warning and Mia looked to the clock, knew they were out of time.

"I'll come back soon." She promised. "I love you."

"Love you too." Dom sniffed, looked away, lockup was no place to let yourself cry. "Don't say that enough."

She tried to show him with her eyes that she knew anyway.

* * *

"Mia!" Brian's head poked out of the garage when she pulled in. "You got a minute?" He looked greasy and sweaty, in a t-shirt that had probably been white once and jeans that were hanging precariously on his hips. She made a mental note to make sure he was eating even when she wasn't around to bug him about it, recruit one of the neighborhood kids maybe.

"Sure, what do you need?" She ducked through the old wooden doors and froze, staring at the car that was siting inside. It looked ugly as sin – a mess of filler and primer and bare metal.

It looked like a car though. A whole car.

She wondered if it was running.

"I know... still pretty much a disaster right?" Brian was scrubbing his hands on a rag now, neatly filing away the tools he'd been using. "I'm taking it in for paint on Wednesday, but today I got the engine to turn over."

Mia was impressed in spite of herself. Mostly she'd be just as happy never to see the car again, but the fact that he'd put anything together from that hunk of metal was... really, really impressive.

"Its not a disaster, Brian... its... I don't know. Its _a car_."

He grinned at her surprise, bright teeth standing out starkly beneath the tan and grime.

"She is that." He agreed, sounding pleased with himself.

"Wow. I don't know what else to say... just wow." She put a hand on the fender, it felt as real and solid as it looked.

"This isn't actually what I wanted to show you." He interrupted her thoughts. "I was hoping we could go somewhere, after dinner. I've been putting it off but..."

But it was two weeks to the hearing. Two weeks until they found out what would ultimately become of Dominic Toretto. Mia swallowed, feeling that familiar clench of fear grab her insides. She wasn't sure she could take it, if they locked him away forever.

"Yeah, of course. You want to take my car?" She wondered.

"If that's alright." He agreed.

He had a government issue crown vic still, but it stayed at the apartment mostly and she got the feeling he didn't like it very much.

Brian showered and changed while she pulled out leftovers. Dinner was subdued, and by the end of it she could almost feel the tension pouring off of him. Whatever he was planning to show her that evening it was big.

She let him drive, and he took them on a distressingly round about track around town. By the time they finally stopped she wasn't sure she could even say what side of town they were on anymore.

"You worried about someone following us?" She wondered as she got out after him.

"Never hurts to be careful." He agreed, palming his keys. He said it flippantly, but she could tell he meant it.

They had come to stop at the back of a storage complex. A little run down, but not really remarkable in any way she would see. He punched in a code to enter the gates and then led her back through the maze of containers to one in the back.

He unlocked the door and gestured her in. It was a large unit, filled at first glance with some old furniture. Brian closed the sliding door behind them, turned on a couple of battery powered lamps she hadn't noticed before and made for the large freezer in the back.

Mia was inspecting a particularly ugly floral print loveseat when he returned, two duffles in hand. He tossed one of them on the seat and unzipped the other.

"Brian!" She stared at the bag's contents. There had to be over 100k in the bag, most of it in US dollars, some of it in Pesos, some of it Canadian. She reached down, picked up something wedged between the bills. Passports. Four of them – two for the US, one Canadian, one British. All with Brian's picture. All with variations of his name. "What is this?"

"My exit strategy." He told her, sounding grim. She watched as he opened the second duffel. Guns. She swallowed hard. Two... three handguns, at least two tasers that she could see, some kind of canister gun that looked like it belonged to riot control. More shapes that escaped immediate identification in the deep bag.

She stared at the weapons, unable to speak, unable to think even.

"Mia." Brian was half kneeling in front of her, blocking her view of the bags. "Mia listen to me. I want to believe things are going to work out. That the deal we had with the feds is going to pan out and that Dom will get off light, a few years, maybe a few more probation. And maybe it will, but if it doesn't... if it doesn't...."

Mia knew what happened then, both of them did. Had seen it in Dominic. Going back in would kill him. He was too tough to do it himself, but she could see it in his eyes when she stopped by. He was on the edge. He could hold out if there was a finish line, a light at the end of this tunnel. Could hold on for her if nothing else but indefinitely... indefinitely he wouldn't last. Was far enough gone to let someone else get in a shot.

"Mia I need to know – do you know anyone you can trust? Do you know anyone that will help? Because if this goes the way it might..." Brian held her hands, his own warm and calloused, so strangely similar in the bad lighting to how she remembered Dom's feeling.

Mia felt her eyes tearing up and wasn't sure she could even explain why.

"If this goes bad, I won't let them take him back there."

* * *

**4. Dom**

**

* * *

**

"_Keep your head down."_ Brian had said.

The one time he'd come in to see him. Once in six months was all he'd gotten outside of hearings. Outside of testimony.

"_Whatever happens, just keep your head down and it'll be OK."_

Dom wanted to be mad at him, wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, except he was tired and keeping to himself was about all he had the energy for anyway. Routine was all that was keeping him on his feet these days. Six months of it. Get up – breakfast – exercise yard for an hour – back in. Most days he worked out in the cell until lunch, gave him something to do, kept him looking mean, looking like someone the bastards here didn't want to deal with.

Might not be enough if they sent him back to Lompoc, but he was trying real hard not to think about that. Not to think about anything.

Mia came by every few days. Talked to him about her job, about the weather and sports and anything she could think of to try and keep him engaged. Didn't say much about Brian after that first time and he didn't ask.

"_A lot's changed, Dom!"_ Except that it hadn't really. Not the important stuff anyway.

He sat down in the courtroom. A too small chair, would have been uncomfortable if he'd been able to shift any, wasn't any better restrained in cuffs.

The judge was older, graying hair and a sour turn to his mouth, wrinkles carved deep into his dark skin. He didn't like Dom, had frowned disapprovingly at Brian when the kid had given testimony. Probably would have been just as happy to throw the narc in jail with him.

"..pass sentence." Dom stood, tuning in and out. Not all there anymore, Toretto, Mentally locking down, preparing for the worst..

Letty would have had some choice things to say about that. And if she'd been the one sitting behind him, watching this shit it might have mattered. Mia would probably have an opinion on his state of mind as well, but she was OK – stronger than he was in a lot of ways and he didn't need to be strong for her anymore. Didn't need to stick around in his head to watch out for her. She'd proved that the past years, proved she didn't need him.

"... one good choice does not outweigh a lifetime of bad ones." The judge glowered down at him, like the man's opinion mattered any. Like Dom would have time to think about him again after today. "This court is forced to dole out the maximum sentence in the state of California." A scraping sound somewhere behind him and then angry footsteps. "Twenty-five years to life in the Lompoc maximum security prison system with no possibility of early parole."

There was that weight, dropping heavy in his gut and Dom swallowed. Twenty-five to life. Never getting out, Toretto. Never gonna get another day of freedom.

He should have run when Brian had given him the chance.

Mia was there behind him as the guard aimed him towards the exit to the courtroom. She looked upset. Shaken, grabbed his hands in hers and squeezed, looked like she wanted to grab him, steal him away. He wished there was some way she could.

"Dom..." Her voice was strange, and he found himself frowning without really understanding why. "Dominic... keep it together. _Please._"

The guard pulled him away before she could say more, half shoving him out into the hall.

He blinked stunned, most of the way back to a holding cell before it sunk in what was off.

She hadn't been crying.

* * *

He leaned his head back on the hard seat of the prison transport. It was hot in the bus, the air stale and filled with the stink of fear and adrenaline, sweat and piss. Too many men in too small a space.

Through the barred windows he could see the desert stretching out for miles around. He'd liked the sight once – this had been a good driving stretch. No traffic, no cops, just long open miles.

The sound of a tuned engine reached him through the cheap metal walls and if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine that it was him, tearing down the road in the Chevelle... maybe the Charger if he'd ever dared it. The motor sounded good, sounded like muscle, all deep rumbling... guttural. The kind of sound that sank into your bones and vibrated up your arms. The kind of sound that made your blood hum in sync.

The car was getting closer, revs peaking, dropping, spinning up again. Whoever was driving didn't seem inclined to slow down for the bus.

He could relate to that.

He stretched, leaned forward as far at the restraints would allow, looked out the window as best he could.

Light glinted off glass black and polished chrome, blinded him for a second, the image burned into his brain.

"_Brian's working on the Charger."_ Mia had said. Except the charger was dead. Gone like his freedom, trashed like his family.

"_Keep your head down, Dom." _Brian's voice echoed in his head. "_Whatever happens, just keep your head down and it'll be OK."_

"Damn punk." He breathed, feeling like someone had just punched him.

Another motor – a higher pitched whine, coming up from behind.

The guard at the back of the bus swore, stalked up to the front to check with the others. Two guards carrying rifles, the driver, presumably armed as well.

A third car, somewhere in the distance. Bearing down with the first two.

The charger pulled up past them, swerved in front.

Around him the other inmates were talking, and up front he could hear the guards cussing, scrambling for radios, catching on that something was up, something was wrong.

The transport lurched, and he braced himself to stay seated. The front end wobbled unsteadily and Dom was willing to bet they'd just lost tires. Something whacked the back of the bus, rear exit, but the gaurds were too busy trying to stay standing, trying to aim out the windows. A rush of air from behind and Dom ducked his head, covered his ears, took a deep breath.

A heavy thump and a low whistle and the air was full of smoke. Man beside him jostled, yelling in his ear. A hand grabbed his arm, squeezed once, and then he felt the chains fall away with a sharp clank. Hands back, pulling him up, pushing him forward and fresh air met his face.

He blinked in the bright light, eyes watering, throat burning from the tear gas. Familiar black muscle swerved into his vision and he didn't think twice, just jumped, grabbed at the hood, squinted through watering eyes at the man behind the wheel that was giving him that huge stupid shit-eating grin.

Dom thought he might be grinning back.

They pulled off, slowed to a stop long enough for him to stumble into the car and then he was being slammed back into the seat again with all the force of nine hundred horses and if that wasn't the sweetest pain ever, he didn't know what was.

They split off from the others at the first chance, all three cars scrambling to put as much distance between themselves and the stalled transport as possible.

Brian stopped them under an overpass long enough to cut him out of the cuffs and for him to scramble into a change of clothes. Set the prison overalls to burning and then turned south.

The adrenaline was fading as they made the rush down the coast and he would have been worried. About making the border, about Mia or pursuit or any of a dozen other things.

Except Brian wasn't.

He had a CB installed in the dash, scanning for speed traps, scanning for mentions of them maybe, but otherwise they might have just been out for a drive. Speeding, to be sure, but not crazy fast, not anything like the car could have done.

The Charger. Looked good. It was nice work, he decided, running hands over the cage, the seats, the dash. Letting that smooth rumble flow up into him. Not that much of the original maybe, but you wouldn't know so just looking at it. Just hearing it.

"You're a crazy son of a bitch you know that?" He wondered aloud, breaking at last the silence that had fallen since the mad run from the bus.

"Yeah." Brian grinned, that bright obnoxious smile that was all teeth and cheeks and shining eyes. That made him look like some demented overgrown puppy.

Dom realized with a start that he hadn't seen that grin since... when? Not during any of this mess with Braga, not even really that night with him and Mia out at Letty's place. Maybe not since Race Wars. And he hadn't even noticed until now that it was missing. It hadn't penetrated that the smile he'd been seeing wasn't as bright, wasn't as easy.

Sometimes, thinking back to that day at the railroad crossing he wondered if there wasn't a moment there when he could have stopped, offered the kid a ride maybe. But he'd been banged up and half-stupid with the pain of the crash... the pain of everything and when Brian had handed him those keys...

"You're throwing away a career on me again." He said, eyes sliding sideways trying to read something there, some answer he wasn't sure he knew how to see.

"Nah." Brain didn't even falter, "I was a shitty cop."

Dom wasn't sure that was true, but it didn't seem right to argue about it.

"And anyway – I hate wearing suits."

Dom had to snort at that, because yeah – Brian looked like an ass in a suit. He'd tried a few times to picture the man he'd known in a uniform, but it always fell flat. Kid was a beach bum, just seemed unnatural to see him in anything that stiff.

"You wanna tell me about Letty?" He asked, needing to know even if he wasn't sure he wanted to.

The grin faded, something... real remorse Dom thought, taking its place.

"_She did it for you, Dom! She did it for you! She just wanted you to come home..."_

"Yeah, sure." Brain eased off a little, pulling the charger back under the speed limit. Worried maybe what would happen if they got into it going ninety on the interstate.

Dom folded his arms, leaned back and listened.

He missed Letty, missed that saucy smirk she always gave him and the way she wasn't afraid to yell and throw punches when he deserved it. He missed the way she walked, all swagger and hips totally aware of how fucking hot she was, how fucking hot she made him. He missed her eyes, always looking right through to him, seeing things in him that he couldn't even see himself.

Shouldn't have sent her away. Should have kept her with him. Always.

He'd wanted more than anything for her to be safe and happy, to have anything she wanted.

Problem was, all she'd wanted was him.

"I should have stopped her, Dom." Brain's voice was low and strangled, "I knew... I _knew_ that it was bad. I _knew_ what she was getting into. When she came to me, said she'd gotten a race invite... I tried to change her mind but I should have... should have refused. I should have just told her I couldn't make the deal."

Dom wanted to agree. Wished something fierce that Brian had done just that.

Except he knew Letty, and she never had been one to take no for an answer. Not from him. Not from the cops. She wouldn't have started with Brian. Hell she'd probably have marched right into that goddamn federal building and offered herself up to whatever jackass was running the investigation.

"It wouldn't have mattered if you had." Dom was surprised at his own voice, steadier than he'd thought he could make it. "I shouldn't have sent her away in the first place. I've known Letty almost her whole life. I know what she's like."

They drove for awhile more in silence, cut off the highway just before San Diego and Dom perked up a bit as they pulled into a private drive on the edge of town.

Garage doors opened and damn if the men waiting for him weren't a sight for sore eyes. He was out of the charger almost before it stopped, grabbing up Vince a hug, or maybe it was the other way around, Leon smiling at him like it was Christmas morning.

"Shit, Dom! You had us worried." Vince clapped him hard between the shoulder blades, right arm still packing a punch even if his left seemed a little weaker.

"Yeah, we weren't sure the narc could pull it off." Leon added.

Dom glanced over at where Brian had climbed out of the car and was leaning quietly against one polished fender. He didn't look offended at the jibe though, his smile back. Still as easy if not as bright as it had been.

"So where do we go from here?" He asked.

"We're switching cars." Brian told him.

"Got a sweet ride for you, boss." Leon grinned in that way that meant he was full of shit and Dom wondered what piece of crap they were going to be border hopping with.

"How bad?" He asked Vince, who shrugged a bit.

"Could be worse. Jeep. Ugly as all hell but it runs good. Kid says he's got something else just south of the border waiting so you won't have to put up with it for long." Vince glanced over at Brian, back at Dom thoughtfully.

"Great. Any chance this layover is long enough for a shower?"

"If you're quick about it." Brian agreed and Dom didn't need to be told twice.

Hot water, really truly hot water and a private bathroom felt like heaven and Dom had to force himself not to just stand there and enjoy it until the heater ran out. By the time he'd finished Vince had wrangled him another change of clothes.

"He got me a lawyer. After." Vince told him from the other side of the door while Dom dressed. "Dunno if I ever told you that."

Dom paused, stared at his reflection, tried to think. He'd only spoken to Vince a few times since that day and it bothered him that the man he'd thought of as his best friend had become so hard to connect with. The accident had changed Vince though, and there was this awkwardness that hovered between them that Dom hadn't found a way around. Maybe hadn't tried hard enough.

"No, you didn't." Dom would have remembered that.

"Yeah." Vince continued, "Guy was an ass, but he got me out of jail time. Probably why no one else has had a warrant out these past years."

"You decide to trust Brian after all?" Dom stepped out of the bathroom, stared hard at his friend.

"I think... I ain't never gonna like him. But he saved my life on that truck, and he helped us out when he should have turned us in. And now... busting you. I dunno. Think the fucker's maybe paid up what he owed us. Whatever he owed me at least."

They headed back to the garage. The charger was under a tarp, and Brian and Leon were checking over an ugly green jeep. They straightened when he walked up.

"See ya soon." Leon promised as he got in the car with Brian and Dom was struck all over again by how surreal things felt. This whole thing had been planned long before his sentencing. Had to have been. It had taken less than a day to arrange moving him to Lompoc and no matter how he looked at it that meant Brian had to have known what he was going to do, had to have been planning the bust for days... weeks maybe.

"What would you have done if they'd let me off?" He asked.

"I dunno." Brian told him looking thoughtful. "I liked that subaru. Might have gotten another one." He mused, way too innocently.

Dom reached over and cuffed him upside the head for his trouble. Brian just grinned.

"Out of your fucking mind." He grumbled, expecting the sentiment was going to last.

"Probably. Seems like a better way to be though."

"Yeah, suppose that's right." Dom agreed and settled in for the drive.

* * *

**Excessively long-winded Author's Notes: **

I wrote this a week after the last movie came out. It has been sitting in the abyss of my hard drive since, mostly because I later cannibalized parts of it for a much longer AU that has since stalled out. To be honest I still feel that later story is better and if I can sit down and pull the missing scenes out of myself it might someday get posted. I figured reading back over this that I did like it regardless and if I end up plagiarizing myself in a scene or two later, well _I'm_ not going to be upset about that. Its not meant to be very definitive, just filling in some things for myself that I felt were kind of left open in the movie.

The Fast & the Furious movies are kind of a guilty pleasure for me. There's something a little sacrilegious about liking the films, mostly because in real life street racing is bad m'kay (for some reason every time one of these films come out a bunch of teenage males seem to totally forget that)? But also because the first film seemed to be written by people that knew about as much about car racing as the average guy knows about how the space shuttle works. The rest of the writing wasn't a real shining beacon of brilliance either.

I actually went to see the first movie entirely because it had Vin Diesel in it (hardly the last really bad film I've seen for that reason). The day I saw the latest installment was my first day back driving my own car after busting the hell out of my knee earlier in the year. Possibly I loved it so much because I'd been on some stupid adrenaline high over that all week. Lots of explosions helped. Explosions + Vin Diesel + Pretty cars is always a winning combo for me (this probably says something about my psyche that I don't want to look at too closely). Also the overall lack of deep and (not) meaningful dialogue helped.

I stick with them because they're pretty, fun (to make fun of) and because I am deep down a sucker for badly written movies about deep unrequited bromance. Especially when they feature explosions. And well choreographed car chases. And hot guys. Making eyes at each other. *cough*

Total Suspension Of Reality: Even working 24/7 for months I figure the odds are low that anyone short of superman could put that poor dodge back together again, to hell with the man hours needed to piece together a normal rebuild – that beastie had to be dead after a crash like that. Still – movie says it was so... so yeah.

I am hoping I got everyone's cars right. Like – I think Letty had a roadrunner (same one from that cameo in Tokyo Drift? That car must be just racking up the frequent flier miles) but all I can remember being said is that is was a Plymouth.

I'm also not totally sure about some plot points and timing (partly because I've only seen 2F2F once and that was some time ago), so I'm going with what Wikipedia and IMDB say happened and then spinning from there.


End file.
